Megan Stine_Jeffery & the Third-Grade Ghost 03 Read Online Free Page A

put ours up a week ago.”
    “We don’t put a holly wreath on the door,” Jeffrey said.
    Wendy looked at Jeffrey as though he were something she’d found at the bottom of a garbage can.
    “Come on, Wendy,” said Mrs. Becker. “I’ll show you where you’re staying.”
    “I know where I’m staying,” Jonathan said. He grabbed his suitcases and charged up the stairs to Jeffrey’s room.
    By the time Jeffrey got there, Jonathan had already moved in. His clothes were lying all over the place. A heavy-metal tape was blasting out of Jeffrey’s cassette player. And Jonathan had his feet on Jeffrey’s bed.
    “Get off my bed,” Jeffrey said. “You’re sleeping in the sleeping bag.”
    Jonathan stood up and picked up a soft, beat-up brown leather baseball mitt. It was an old one that Max had given Jeffrey. The mitt had the autographs of famous ball players from the fifties. It also seemed to have magic, too.
    “Where’d you get this?” Jonathan asked.
    “Put that down,” Jeffrey snapped.
    “Hey, there’s writing on it,” Jonathan said, grabbing a pen from Jeffrey’s desk. “Think I’ll sign my name, too. Ha ha ha ha!”
    Jeffrey grabbed the mitt from his cousin.
    “It was a joke,” Jonathan said. “Lighten up, okay?”
    Jonathan pretended to play guitar along with the loud music. Jeffrey looked around his room for things he wanted to hide.
    “Listen,” Jonathan said. “I want to be here about as much as you want me to. Who ever heard of parents leaving their kids on Christmas?”
    Jeffrey didn’t know what to say.
    Jonathan’s eyes suddenly focused on the empty box from Jeffrey’s remote-control racing car. It was on the floor in Jeffrey’s closet. “Hey! You’ve got a remote-control car! Totally awesome. Where is it?”
    “I don’t have it anymore,” Jeffrey said.
    “What kind of lame thing is that to say? Did you break it?” Jonathan asked.
    “No, I didn’t break it,” Jeffrey said. “A friend of mine gave it to someone without my permission.”
    Jonathan laughed. “You let someone give your racing car away?” he said. “Boy, Jeffrey, you’re a real wimp.”
    “Yeah, and you’re a big jerk and your sister’s a toadface,” Jeffrey said.
    Suddenly, Jeffrey’s father was standing in the doorway. “Jeffrey, could we have a private conversation in the hall?”

    Jonathan laughed as Jeffrey went with his father.
    “Jeffrey, three things to remember,” Mr. Becker said. “First, Wendy and Jonathan are our guests, so no more sarcastic remarks. Second, the Alamo. Third, if you try, you might actually have fun with your cousins this week.”
    Reluctantly, Jeffrey promised to try to get along with Jonathan. Then he walked back to his room.
    When dinnertime came that night, Jeffrey hid in his room. He could hear Jonathan downstairs whining like a broken record. Jonathan kept saying over and over, “That’s not how
we
do it at Christmas.” But suddenly his whining voice was replaced by slow, quiet music. It came from the piano in the family room.
    The melody was so beautiful and sad that it drew Jeffrey downstairs. Mr. and Mrs. Becker came out of the kitchen, too. They all found Wendy sitting at the piano. She swayed back and forth a little as she played. When she was done and the last long note died away, Mr. Becker said, “That was beautiful.”
    “No way,” Wendy said. “Your piano’s out of tune a quarter tone in the midrange. It made my teeth clench.”
    Mrs. Becker ignored the insult. “Dinner is ready,” she said pleasantly.
    All through dinner, Jeffrey’s mom had a faraway look on her face. Finally, she told him what she was thinking. “Jeffrey,” she said, “I really wish you had stuck to your piano lessons. I’d give anything for you to be able to play as wonderfully as Wendy.”
    “I will, Mom,” he said. “But not when I’m a kid. Everyone does that. I’m going to learn to play when I’m ninety years old. That’s when people will really be